


Careful

by lizzycm



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, One Shot, Pining, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:34:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28982697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzycm/pseuds/lizzycm
Summary: Why did she even care? She told herself it was because her reputation relied on him. As long as Kaz Brekker was considered dangerous, his little spy would be feared as well. And fear was the surest form of respect. Without him, she could very well end up back where she started, or maybe somewhere worse. But it was more than that. She didn’t want him to die because… because…
Relationships: Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa
Comments: 6
Kudos: 71
Collections: Kaz and Inej Fanfics, Week #1: 10... 9... 8...





	Careful

**Author's Note:**

> Done for the [first prompt](https://weeklygrishaprompts.tumblr.com/post/641222813283385344/prompt-1) in the weekly Grishaverse prompt challenge.
> 
> I seem to notice that it's always Inej that's being injured, with Kaz freaking out over her. So I decided to reverse this. Just a healthy dose of hurt/comfort Kanej, for your reading enjoyment.
> 
> Takes place pre-soc. Inej has already joined the Dregs at this point.

There was an itch on Inej’s foot.

She had been hiding under the bed for the better part of an hour. Laying under her back, barely breathing as she listened to the conversation going on around her. If anyone found her here, she could be killed for breaking parlay conduct. Kaz could very well suffer the same fate.

“You’re in too deep, Brekker,” the Razorgull leader, Oller, was saying. He had a quiet voice, product of a throat injury that had happened when he was young. But listen to him, he still sounded so much more mature than the boy he was dealing with. “My advice? Find a nice job in the country. Something that will keep you off of your feet.” Inej imagined the older man giving a pointed glance to Kaz’s bad leg.

To his credit, Kaz didn’t seem to react to Oller’s taunts, if they could even be called that. “Oller, we both know that isn’t going to happen,” he replied smoothly. “And definitely not while your gang is poking their noses where they shouldn’t be.”

“Poking our noses where they shouldn’t be?” Oller gave a wheezy chuckle. “Oh, I wholeheartedly disagree. We have every right to be involved in your little schemes. You think no one will notice, but I see you. You’re a smart kid, really Brekker, and I have to applaud you for that.”

A rat scuttled behind Inej’s head, and she bit her lip. The Drekig Hotel was utterly filthy, inside and out, infested with rats and all manor of deplorable creatures. But it was also neutral territory, a good place to meet when you wanted to make less-than-legal dealings in secrecy. Gang bosses would often meet here when they didn’t want prying ears listening in on their conversations, when they didn’t much desire the fanfare of the Exchange.

Currently, Kaz and Oller were sitting at a small, flimsy little wooden table in the corner of the hotel room. From where she was laying under the bed, Inej could see their feet - Oller’s toes twitching whenever Kaz spoke, as if he was having to restrain himself from punching the younger man in the face. Inej knew the feeling. And Kaz’s feet, utterly relaxed, bad leg stretched out at a comfortable angle, cane leaning against the wall beside him. Thoroughly relaxed.

She knew that Kaz would be keeping a calm composure, but she also knew that internally, he was probably seething in frustration. He had been going in circles with Oller for the better part of an hour now, with little success. At least he had managed to get Oller to admit that he  _ was _ attempting to spy on the Dregs (or their private coffers, more than likely), but even that felt like a meaningless victory.

“It’s not a matter of  _ every right _ , Oller,” Kaz was saying. “Saying you have a right to something implies that there might be some good in this world to ensure that right. Maybe that was how it was in the old times, but well, that’s why they’re called the old times.”

Oller’s foot flexed. His composure was cracking, bit by bit. Like the tide hammering away at a stone wall. Eventually, the tide would win. “Well, Mister Brekker,” the older man replied, “I must admit, you are a brilliant one. Could’ve made a beautiful contribution to the Razorgulls. Almost makes me sad about what I have to do next.”

Inej’s eyes widened. She realized what was going to happen a second before it did. Before she could even hear a reaction from Kaz, she had slid out from under the bed in one fluid movement. She jumped to her feet just as the door swung inwards, revealing a group of Razorgull lieutenants, crammed into the small hallway.

Oller let out a brief choking sound at the sight of her in the hotel room before recovering from the shock. He turned to his soldiers. “Well?” he hissed. “What are you waiting for?”

There was no time to plan anything. She exchanged a glance with Kaz, and he gave her a small nod.

The room was small, and Inej hated fighting in the enclosed space. She had pulled out two of her knives - Sankta Alina and Sankt Petyr - and was moving as gracefully as she could with the area she had. A Razorgull pulled a knife on her, and she ducked down, slashing at the exposed skin on the back of his ankle. He let out a yelp as blood spurted from the spot. She came up behind him, giving him a good whack over the head, and he fell over.

The fight felt like a dance, like a routine she might have performed on the trapeze, once upon a time. The Razorgulls had no grace to them, but they were all several times larger than her, and they were strong, and quite a few of them had guns. She could only spare Kaz a few glances, but he was holding his own. She had to trust that they could both do this.

She saw a Razorgull raising his gun before Kaz did, and lunged forward, jabbing Sankt Petyr into the man's throat. He choked, and Inej cringed. She hadn’t meant to kill him. But then he was falling to the ground.

She didn’t see his finger curling around the trigger until it was too late. A gunshot rang through the room, and she let out a gasp, bracing for the pain. But none came.

And then she turned, and saw Kaz, blood already staining his black vest. Dimly, she was aware that the Razorgulls were retreating, their job seemingly complete, but she couldn’t concentrate on that through the ringing in her ears. Kaz was glancing down at his wound, eyebrow raised, as if he hadn’t realized he was even capable of being injured. Inej hadn’t thought he could, either, she realized.

She came to her senses as the last Razorgull ran down the hallway. She threw one of her knives, and it stuck into his back, and the man collapsed. For once, she didn’t stop to say a prayer to her saints for the man’s life. She was already moving towards Kaz.

“We need to get you to the Slat,” she said, moving a hand to Kaz’s wound. He swatted her hand away.

“Don’t touch me,” he hissed, but his voice was shaking, and he already looked paler than normal.

“You aren’t going to make it back if you don’t put pressure on that,” Inej tried. Kaz gave her a stormy look, before pressing a gloved hand against the spot. “And we need to get you back to the Slat. Or to Nina.”

Kaz shook his head. “No,” he gasped. “There’s a safehouse a couple blocks away. It’s closer.”  _ And it’s away from prying eyes _ , is what he didn’t say, but he didn’t have to. Inej understood what it meant to appear weak in front of others. Do that, and they might always think of you that way. And Kaz couldn’t live with the humiliation.

Inej nodded. “Okay,” she agreed. “We’ll go there.”

Kaz attempted to take a step forward and let out a small noise that reminded Inej of an injured bird. His hand clenched over his wound. And Inej moved forward again, placing her hand on his side.

“I said don’t touch me,” Kaz growled, but his voice was weak, without its usual ferocity.

“You won’t make it to the safehouse on your own, Kaz,” Inej reasoned. “You have to let me help you.” At Kaz’s pointed glare, she added, “Which would you rather have survive, your pride or your body?”

She could see he was debating with yourself. “Another Suli proverb?” he muttered under his breath, before giving her a tight nod. She moved so that he could lean against her side, as Kaz gripped his cane with his other hand. They made slow progress through the hotel, past the fallen Razorgull in the hallway and down the creaky wooden stairs. They took the back exit out, avoiding the crowds on the street out front.

And so they made their way through alleyways. Kaz would let a hiss when his wound was particularly agitated. Inej could help but notice how much he was leaning on her, increasing the pit of worry in her stomach. Their skin wasn’t touching, but his skin was warm in the spots under the fabric of his clothes.

Why did she even care? She told herself it was because her reputation relied on him. As long as Kaz Brekker was considered dangerous, his little spy would be feared as well. And fear was the surest form of respect. Without him, she could very well end up back where she started, or maybe somewhere worse. But it was more than that. She didn’t want him to die because… because…

The safehouse Kaz had referred to was a small back door in a sweet shop that led down into a basement. The place was coated in a heavy layer of dust, and the scent of rotting produce made Inej wrinkle her nose. After a brutal hurricane had hit Ketterdam about a decade back, many businesses had chosen to move their products from storage areas in basements to private banks. It left plenty of empty spaces, cracks for people to slip through.

Kaz slumped down against one of the walls, gesturing to a box in the opposite corner that seemed considerably less dusty. “There’s a first aid kit in there,” he told her, and she didn’t like how weak his voice sounded. “It should have some bandages inside.”

“Alright,” Inej said, darting over to the other side of the room. Opening the crate, she saw an assortment of guns, knives, and some canned goods. And in the very bottom, a small metal box with the symbol for healing painted on it in red ink. Picking up the box, Inej quickly moved back to where Kaz was sitting.

Inside the box were a couple towels, some bandages, and a small bottle of iodine. Inej gave Kaz a meaningful glance. “You’re going to have to take off your shirt,” Inej told him.

Kaz shot her an icy glare. “I can do it myself.”

“No, you can’t. Your hands are shaking,” Inej pointed out. Kaz looked about ready to murder her right then and there, but he moved to pull off his vest before wincing.

“Let me help you,” Inej said. It was hauntingly familiar to her first words to him, but she didn’t dwell on it. Kaz seemed disgruntled, but he didn’t protest as she gently helped him pull his blood stained vest over his head, only letting out a few grunts when he agitated his wound.

Once the vest was off, Inej could see that Kaz’s button-up shirt was stained with bright red blood, and there was a large tear where the gunshot was. “Can you unbutton your shirt?” she asked, and he nodded. She turned her attention to the washcloth, dousing it in a healthy splash of iodine.

When she turned back to him, the torn shirt had been discarded on the floor next to him. His chest was bare, and her eye flicked once to the tattoo on his bicep - a capital “R” - before she returned her focus to his injury. “The bullet didn’t go through,” she observed. “Can you feel in there?”

Kaz grimaced, before nodding. “Yeah.”

Inej sighed. “I’m going to pull it out,” Inej told him, grabbing the iodine bottle. Kaz’s eyes widened.

“No,” he choked out. “I’ll do it.”

Kaz,” Inej reasoned, “you’ll only injure yourself if you try to do that in this state.” Kaz pursed his lips. “ _ Kaz _ . You have to let me help you.”

Kaz dug his gloved fingers into his palms. For a moment, Inej was afraid he might refuse. How well did they know each other, really? They fought together, sure, and everyone felt a little bit closer after that. But virtually, she knew nothing about him. Not about his family, and what he liked to do. About what made him smile, really smile. But she did know that he didn’t want to die here, in a dusty basement, when he could live to fight another day.

He nodded, and Inej found herself letting out a sigh of relief. “Be quick,” he told her.

Inej poured some iodine on her hands, in the absence of proper sanitary options. It would probably sting incredibly for Kaz, but it would hurt a lot more when she pulled that bullet out. She handed him one of the washcloths still in the first aid kit. “Bite down on this,” she instructed him. There wasn’t a lot more she could do.

She took in a deep breath. She was stalling, and she knew it. “I’m going to count down from ten,” she told him, “and then I’m going to take out the bullet.” He gave her a curt nod, and she forced herself to breath. It wouldn’t do either of them any good if she panicked now.

“Ten.” She steadied herself, flexing her hands. 

“Nine.” She would have to be quick. She knew the longer she messed with the wound, the more chance she would cause further damage. 

“Eight.” Kaz’s eyes were squeezed shut, and he was breathing heavily. 

“Seven.” This was just like when she would any other wounded Dreg. 

“Six.” Except it was Kaz, and if he died…

“Five.” Well, then things would be considerably different for her.

“Four.” She heard Kaz take another deep breath, and she took another one to match him.

“Three.” She braced her right hand against his shoulder, and he flinched, squeezing his eyes shut even tighter.

“Two.” She didn’t move her hand, but she gave him a comforting squeeze.

“One.”

She didn’t hesitate before moving her hand to the wound. Kaz was trembling under her right hand, but she forced herself to stay steady. He didn’t scream or cry, but the silence felt almost worse.

_ There _ . Her thumb and pointer finger found the small bullet, and she pulled it out as delicately as she could before tossing it on the floor with a small  _ ping _ . As soon as she was no longer touching Kaz, he seemed to visibly relax, and she allowed herself to take a few gasping breaths. The worst of it was over.

Kaz spit out the washcloth, and Inej silently handed him one of the ones she had soaked in iodine. He dabbed at the wound with it. “Put more pressure on it,” Inej advised him, and he did.

No  _ thank you _ . No acknowledgement of what she had done. But when he looked up at her, their eyes met, and somehow, that said more than a  _ thank you _ ever could.

**Author's Note:**

> [Come and chat with me on Tumblr](https://no-mourners-at-my-funeral.tumblr.com/)


End file.
